Make him pay someone has to
by mu-sama
Summary: My vision of Harry's sixth year. Nothing to to with HBP. There might be some HPSS slash towards the end.
1. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : Own nothing. Don't make money of it.**

**A BIG THANK YOU to my two wonderful betas Yukka and Sara. Wouldn't be able to go on without you.**

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**Chapter one : Summer hols**

_Harry was running down an endless stair. He didn't know why, simply felt like he had to. As if something was waiting for him down there. Something he both wanted and dreaded. He kept running and running until reaching a cavernous room at last. He knew this place. This was where Bellatrix killed his godfather that fateful day in the Department of Mysteries. Except that there was no Bellatrix around, not even members of the Order and Death Eaters fighting. Just him._

_Then Sirius appeared out of nowhere, and Harry had the overwhelming urge to run to him, hold him and never let him go. He had been so stupid to not open Sirius' present. If he had, he would never have fallen into Voldemort's trap, and his godfather would still be alive. Harry took a step toward Sirius but realised too late that Sirius had his wand drawn and pointed at him. Harry scarcely managed to dodge his hex. _

_What the hell was going on?_

_Harry saw his arm moving on his own accord and soon Sirius and he were fighting to death._

"_Come on, Harry, you can do better than that!" His godfather laughed._

_Sirius was openly mocking and provoking him. How dared he laugh as if it was all a game? As ifhe was not risking his life? Anger boiled through his veins. He wanted to hit his godfather for being so immature. He wanted to hurt him. Oh yes… Hurt him for abandoning him. As if in answer to his last thought, a baby voice – the one of Bellatrix – echoed in his head and urged him on. 'You have to mean it, little Harry. You must want to inflict pain and savour every minute of it. Come on, I know you can do it. Let me show you…'_

_And this time, Sirius didn't manage to duck his hex. The jet of red light hit him hard on the chest. He fell and fell – it seemed to last for endless moments until he finally fell through the veil and disappeared. The baby voice was chuckling in his head but he didn't have any strength left to shut it up._

"_Sirius, no…" he moaned._

Harry jerked awake. Eyes wide open in the dark he forced himself to lay still until his breathing became normal again. He didn't want to think about his dream nor what it could mean. He concentrated on the house instead. It was deadly silent, which meant he didn't scream this time. Which was good. He didn't particularly like having uncle Vernon bang on his door and shout at him to shut up. Uncle Vernon had never once entered his bedroom to shake him awake since he came back. In fact, he no longer touched Harry at all, afraid that he would report him to his 'dangerous freak friends'. Not that Harry wouldn't have done it anyway simply for the pleasure of paying Vernon back for all the years of abuse he suffered.

The thing was, he wanted to be left alone. It was bad enough that he had to write to someone every three days in order to avoid them all to turn up and fuss over him and pity him. More than anything, it was the pity he sensed in their replies that he couldn't bear. People no longer acted normally around him. He couldn't tell what unnerved him the most: Hermione, who talked about Sirius' death all the time, hoping he would share some of his grief with her - and kept saying how sad she was. Or Ron, who didn't talk about it at all. His parents, Cedric, Sirius… The number of people dying around him increased with each year, and there was nothing he could do to prevent that.

Never in his young life had Harry felt so helpless and so scared of his feelings. Voldemort had used his love for his godfather against him. Who would it be next time? The war was near, Harry had to get stronger. He couldn't afford risking every witch's and wizard's lives because someone he loved died. He had to rationalise things. He had to get used to the idea that people close to him may die. People he loved and cared about. He had to protect himself somehow otherwise he would turn mad with worry. He knew this was what he should do, but Merlin, was it hard. He was only a kid, a sixteen year old teenager (soon to be, anyway). Idolised for something he didn't even remember and who didn't know anything about witchcraft before he was eleven. He was an average student and a complete disaster at occlumency. His abilities were nothing compared to those of Hermione and he couldn't plan a strategy for the life of him, unlike Ron. How was it that experienced aurors like Mad-Eye or Tonks and even Dumbledore, who defeated Grindelwald, expected him… HIM! to vanquish the Dark Lord? They were just loosing it.

Harry heard a sound coming from the kitchen and realised it was now half past eight. Unable to fall back to sleep, he decided to have an early breakfast. If he worked all day in the garden perhaps he would be able to have a decent night's rest for once. He got up swiftly and dressed in an old pair of baggy jeans that used to belong to his cousin. He didn't even bother to take a shower for he would be all sweaty in less than an hour.

The kitchen was as spotless as ever. His aunt Petunia must have heard him going down the stairs for she was transferring some fried bacon and eggs on a plate when he entered. She gestured impatiently for him to sit down, a strained smile on her lips.

"Hurry up. Your uncle and cousin will be down in a minute" she said, her hands shaking slightly.

Five minutes later, Harry was taking his empty plate to the sink when his aunt interrupted him.

"Leave it to me" she said.

"All right. Hum… I'll be in the garden" he murmured.

She nodded silently in answer.

That's how things have been since the beginning of the summer. Sort of strange, he must admit. Whether it was because of Remus' and Mad-Eye's threats or because of Dumbledore's howler he didn't know but his aunt had been more… accepting since his return. He no longer had chores to do and was now allowed to eat his meals with the rest of them. Of course, his uncle and cousin ignored him most of the time but it was fine. Better being ignored than insulted. His aunt was not particularly nice to him but she no longer had that look of hatred in her eyes when she saw him and in her own way, seemed to have come to care for him. Or so he deduced the day she silently filled his plate with more food than usual and kept glancing his way, making sure that he ate at least some of it. There really was something amiss with his aunt for her to realise he had barely eaten the days before, and more than that, to actually try to do something about it. She couldn't be that scared of Dumbledore. What puzzled him most though, was Vernon's lack of reaction regarding his wife's new behaviour. That, in itself was more frightening than anything else. Harry made sure to keep a low profile at all times, avoiding his uncle and cousin like the plague and keeping to himself.

Whatever it was that made them change so drastically, Harry was grateful for the respite it gave him. He had enough to worry about without adding abusive Dursleys on his list: his scar hadn't hurt once since the Department of Mysteries, and the Death Eaters had been strangely quiet. Now that the ministry had finally acknowledged Voldemort's return, Harry thought they would have taken a great pleasure in terrorising the wizarding world again. But then, with Malfoy senior imprisoned in Azkaban, they had lost their main leader. So now they were all waiting.

Harry hated that. It unnerved him to no end not knowing what to expect. He couldn't help imagining what Voldemort was up to and each time, his assumptions were getting worse. What if Malfoy managed to escape? What if the Death Eaters began attacking muggleborns? What if Hermione was targeted?… What ifs indeed.

* * *

July 31st came soon enough. Harry was now officially sixteen. He didn't know what to do of it for in his mind, each day brought him closer to the moment he would have to fight Voldemort and either kill him or be killed by him… but now was not the time to worry about such things. Before long, there would be heavy-charged owls tapping on his window. Harry grinned: receiving gifts was the part he enjoyed most about birthdays. He wondered what his friends would send to him. He couldn't guess about Ron but Hermione would probably give him something school-related.

He decided to laze about in bed a bit. He strained his ears but all he heard was his uncle and cousin getting down the stairs and leaving the house an hour later. He waited some more but still… no owls. To make it worse, the postman didn't even stop at their house. He finally had to get up when Petunia knocked on his door asking if he was feeling all right. Count on her to forget it too. With the way she was acting lately, he thought she would at least have wished him a happy birthday.

The day slipped away gloomily. Harry had retired to his bedroom and was reading his best Defence against the Dark Arts book for the hundredth time when Vernon called him. He went downstairs shuffling his feet.

"Here you are boy," snarled his uncle. "We are going to the restaurant. Without you," he added with malice. "You are to stay the night at Mrs Figg's. Oh! There she is already, he gloated hearing the doorbell ring. Good, good. Now, hurry boy!"

Harry ran up to his room and grabbed a few things for the night. When he came back down, Mrs Figg was waiting for him in front of the door, engaged in some small talk with Dudley, who was so unctuous that he looked about to be sick.

"I'll bring him back tomorrow then, around ten in the morning."

"That will be perfect" answered aunt Petunia.

She ushered her dear Dudley back in and began to close the door. This day was just getting better and better, Harry thought. Everybody forgot him, and now he was kicked out of the only place, where he would have at least been able to mope in peace. Now he had to spend the evening with Dumbledore's watchdog instead! Harry felt quite wary of the old lady now that he knew she was a squib and had been watching him all these years. He looked helplessly at his aunt Petunia but she just smiled and closed the door.

"So, how have been your holidays so far, Harry?" asked Mrs Figg.

"Fine" he answered curtly.

Due to their slow pace, it took them close to ten minutes to arrive at Wisteria Walk during which Harry had heard all about Pumpkin. (Pumpkin was the last feline Mrs Figg took in). He was, according to her, a nice ginger little kitten with brown streaks and vivid green eyes ("Just like his, by the way"). She had found him all wet and famished in the back garden two weeks prior. It was hard at first to approach him, so she settled on feeding him until he was accustomed to her. Then she took him in…

Here Harry thought her prattling was over because they were reaching her door. Unfortunately, she only paused during the time it took for her to find her keys after which, she began talking again. How could he have believed her when she said her cat-obsessed personage was all an act for the Dursleys?

"SURPRISE!"

Harry shrieked. Actually shrieked. Like a scared girl with the jumping and wide eyes and heart racing and all.

"You thought I was going to bore you to death, didn't you?" winked the old woman.

They were all there: the Weasleys, Hermione, even Neville, Remus, Tonks and Mad-Eye. And they were all laughing at him.

"Should have seen your face, mate" Ron said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Put all of us girls to shame," agreed Ginny.

"Harry!" he heard before having his arms full of a Hermione hugging him tight.

"Hum… Hermione?" poked Harry blushing. "Not that I don't like you… But not in that way, sorry."

"Boys!" exclaimed Hermione exasperated.

Then:

"Happy birthday!" the three shouted at the same time.

Harry blushed like mad. Now everybody was looking at him. Neville waved shyly at him from a corner of the room. Harry wished he could join him and hide there until morning came. Molly seemed to sense his embarrassment. She ushered him into the living room to take a sit at a large table upon which gifts were piled.

"Come on Harry, open them up!" urged George.

"Yes go on, mate," added Fred with a sadistic gleam in his eyes that didn't ease Harry's fear about what they choose for him.

Sure enough, his first gift was labelled 'Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes'. It looked like an inoffensive bottle of lemonade but when Harry took a sip – talk about Gryffindor foolhardiness at that point – his hair began alternating colours and lengths.

"Wicked!" exclaimed the twins.

"Fred! George!" shouted Molly. "I hope this is not something permanent, young men!"

"Well…" began Fred.

"It's just that…" hedged George with a guilty look on his face.

"It's just what?" panicked Harry, his hair going from white blond to curly and blue to different shades of purple in a matter of seconds.

"Please…" he implored. "Tell me it is temporary. Oh no…" he moaned, desperate. "You didn't even test the thing, did you?"

The twins burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, it'll only last a couple of minutes" said Fred.

"You're no fun!" whined George. "We could have baited him some more!"

"Here. That one is from me" cut Neville, handing him a middle sized package. "Don't shake it, it's fragile."

Harry ripped the paper carefully, curiosity on his face.

"Thanks Neville" he said, admiring the small rose bush.

"Ours now!" demanded Ginny.

And so it went. Ginny and Ron offered him a Quidditch pair of gloves – Ron was working with his dad this summer, so he could afford such a gift. Hermione gave him a potion text book, for he had been admitted in the advanced class (how he did it he couldn't tell however). She got one for Ron too but he just grimaced. Remus gave him a DADA book. Tonks surprised him the most: she offered him a new set of clothes, an emerald green shirt and tight black jeans that made him self-conscious just looking at them. 'For your next date' she murmured at his ears, grinning.

The lights went off and everybody sang "Happy birthday" while Molly brought a huge cheery cake in.

"Make a wish" whispered Hermione.

_I want Sirius to be here with me now_. He immediately scolded himself for such a stupid wish. He wouldn't think of it on his birthday. He wouldn't. But it was already too late. Harry forgot all about his slice and excused himself. He needed some time alone but he didn't know where to go since it was not his house. He decided on the toilets – sure that no one would dare to disturb him there and locked himself in.

Harry didn't feel Hermione's and Molly's gazes following his progression to the door. Both women exchanged worried glances. Molly raised from her chair only to be stopped by Remus' hand on her shoulder.

"I'd rather go."

"Remus…"

"Molly, don't. I know what you are trying to do. I appreciate your concern, I really do but I doubt that Harry wants you to fuss over him like a mother hen in front of his friends."

"I'm sure it's about Sirius. He should talk about it," Hermione said in her know-it-all voice. "We are here to help him."

"Hermione…" sighed Remus. "Perhaps he doesn't want to. Not yet anyway," he added seeing that the teen was going to protest.

Hermione frowned but otherwise kept silent, obviously disagreeing with Remus.

"Everybody has a way his way to deal with grief. Because yours is talk about it doesn't mean it's Harry's."

"I should go to him," cut Molly

She looked ready for a battle.

"Molly… Harry would have come to you already if he wanted your help. You are like a mother to him. Right now though, he needs someone who can understand him. Sirius was my best friend. I know what Harry is going through. Let me go to him."

Molly slowly nodded her consent.

In the bathroom,Harry had circled his knees with his arms and was focused on breathing deeply, rocking back and forth. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

"_Come on, you can do better than that!"_

Harry whimpered, his body trembling. His breathing was harsh now and he could feel the tears threatening to fall. No, no, no. Oh my God, will he stop crying one day? He couldn't contain the tears anymore so let them go and hide his face in the crook of his arms so as not to be heard.

He couldn't tell how long he stayed there. He felt cold and empty inside. He knew that he was a mess and that his face was all red and puffy. He tried applying cold water on it but it didn't seem to work so he resigned himself to go back to the living room like that.

What he didn't expect was to find Remus waiting for him behind the door. He didn't trust his voice enough to ask him how long he had been there but one look at the compassionate eyes told him it must have been quite some time. He suddenly found his shoes to be of great interest.

"I miss him too, you know" Remus murmured, his voice sad.

Harry bit his lips hard to stifle a sob. He was done crying like a baby. But then, Remus' arms were embracing him and he suddenly felt warm again and protected. Remus' hands were soothing him, rubbing his back and arms in a comforting way. Harry sobbed but it was all right now because Remus was there and he didn't have to keep it all inside of him. He didn't have to be Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world. He could just be Harry.

When his tears finally dried up he felt exhausted in a way he had never been. Still holding him, Remus sat against the wall and took him in his arms again. Harry settled himself and slid his head between Remus' neck and shoulder.

"Sometimes I hate him," he confessed. "I hate him because he left me and now I'm all alone."

"You're not alone Harry, I'm here. I may not be part of your family, but I'm here. And I care about you."

Harry nodded. He was tired. His eyes fluttered shut and a moment afterwards he fell asleep. Remus carried him back into the living room where the others were waiting apprehensively.Molly whispered for everybody to go into the kitchen while she transfigured the couch into a bed.She tucked Harry in and kissed his forehead.

"Will he be all right?" asked Hermione when the two adults came back.

She eyed each of them in turn.

"I hope so," answered Remus.

* * *

On waking, Harry felt totally disoriented. The bed was too large and warm to be his own, and the furniture was terribly old fashioned. Then he remembered that he was at Mrs Figg'. Everything came back to him in a flash: his birthday party, the crying and how he fell asleep in Remus' arms. He couldn't help blushing at the memory, vaguely ashamed at his actions. He shouldn't have burdened Remus with his problems. Remus, who was now fast asleep in an armchair by his side Harry felt warmed to know that Remus had been looking after him all night.

A movement in Remus' lap cut Harry's train of thoughts. Something was moving under the plaid covering him. Remus stirred in his sleep and his hand went under the plaid to catch what was there. He opened his eyes the same moment he extracted a ginger furry ball: Pumpkin. The kitten was hanging all lifeless at the end of Remus' arm looking innocent while Remus stared at him, brows frowned – probably pissed off at seeing his sleep disturbed. Harry couldn't help giggling, they were just too funny.

"Nice to see you awake" groaned Remus, still half asleep. "Give me a minute, would you?"

He tried to stand up but his body would have none of it. His joints cracked under the strain and he massaged his neck, obviously in pain.

"You should have transfigured another bed" said Harry.

"No need for it. It's not as if I get that much sleep nowadays anyway… Shall we have some breakfast?"

They both headed to the kitchen. They heard Mrs Figg before they actually saw her. Her back was turned on them. She wearing a dressing gown that was so old you couldn't even guess what colour it used to be. She was cooing at a horde of cats, telling them silly things in a high pitched voice while feeding them. Remus watched her for a few seconds, obviously amused by such a display, before politely clearing his throat.

"Good morning, Mrs Figg."

"Good morning, Mr Lupin, Harry… Pumpkin! Where have you been all night?" she exclaimed when she saw the ginger kitten make his entrance, its step nonchalant.

Pumpkin mewed once as if to answer the question then purred and rubbed itself on her legs. She petted him for a bit before straightening herself and saying: "You will have to hurry. It's already nine and I promised to bring Harry back at ten. You were sleeping so well that I didn't want to wake you up too soon" she apologised.

"It's all right, Mrs Figg. It won't take us too much time to get ready. I would like to walk Harry to the Dursleys, though, if you agree."

Mrs Figg nodded.

"Try to be nice to Mrs Dursley, would you? She is not a fundamentally bad woman. Just happened to marry the wrong man, which didn't improve her personality."

"I will," promised Remus.

The walk back to the Dursleys was made in silence. Harry wondered how to act around Remus now. They had not spoken a word since breakfast when he had tried to apologise for the night before and Remus had waved it aside. All he knew was that a line had been crossed. He could no longer see Remus as only a former teacher or one of his parents' best friends. When he had held him, he had become something more. Someone he could rely on. He was more than a friend now. Was it all right? Remus had said that he cared about him but he didn't know why. Perhaps Remus felt he had to protect him only out of a sense of duty. Perhaps he only cared for him because he was the last reminisce of what his own life used to be - because he was James' son and Sirius' godson. After all, few people cared for who he really was.

_It doesn't seem to bother him much though,_ _what happened last night,_ Harry thought glancing at Remus. _It didn't feel like he felt forced to comfort you either._

Harry's steps became lighter at these thoughts and he was almost smiling when they reached 4, Privet Drive. That is, until he heard Dudley's heavy footsteps in the corridor and saw his massive body blocking the door.

"Dad! Mum!" he shouted. "Harry is back and there is one of those…"

Dudley inhaled sharply upon recognising Remus. He took several steps back, his body shaking in fear, before running to the living room.

"Daddy! It's… It's… HIM!" they could hear him whine.

Aunt Petunia came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"Come in" she said.

Uncle Vernon appeared in the kitchen's doorway while she was putting the kettle on the cooker. His eyes were flashing daggers and his face was red from contained anger.

"What is that freak doing in my house?" he shouted at Harry. "Were you not supposed to stay with Mrs Figg?"

Dudley was watching him from the kitchen door, obviously waiting for the moment he would be punished.

"I…"

"Is that Mrs Figg the old lady I met down the street?" asked Remus, all the while playing with his wand. "She suddenly remembered she had an urgent appointment."

"I bet she is one of yours!" accused Vernon.

Remus smirked.

"You jinxed her!" shrieked Dudley from the doorway.

The poor boy was still traumatised from the pig incident.

"That cannot be, son" reassured Vernon. "There must be laws…"

"Indeed there are, Mr Dursley, but what I did to her was not illegal. I didn't harm her, just got rid of her with a light memory-altering charm" lied Remus smoothly. "Want to test it?"

"Petunia. I swear, if you let that… thing," he spat "stay longer in our house while he threatened our very lives I'll…" he ranted.

"You will what?" asked Remus with a smile.

Even Harry felt a shiver ran down his spine at the threat underlying his tone. It reminded him that Remus turned into a dangerous creature once a month and it frightened him because he knew what he was capable of. The threat was all the scarier because of his smile. Perhaps it would do him well to remember that tactic. Perhaps next time he willl have to face a Death Eater he would be able to scare the shit out of him that way. Hum… Come to think of it, probably not.

"Vernon… You remember what we have talked about? Let me deal with it, would you?" said Petunia calmly.

"What! You want me to let you alone with that freak?"

"Yes, Mr Dursley, that is exactly what she meant."

Remus had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Vernon. No… He wouldn't? Thought Harry. Vernon certainly thought he was in danger if the speed at which he fled back to the living room was any proof of it. Remus cast a locking charm on the door before lowering his hand and setting his wand on the table.

"Sugar? Milk? Lemon?" asked Petunia matter-of-factly.

"Milk only please," answered Remus cordially.

Harry's eyes widened like saucers: aunt Petunia and Remus acting all polite… He couldn't believe his ears. Aunt Petunia didn't even flinch at the sight of magic, though he could see she was rather tense. Perhaps it was all a dream. Yes, that was it. He was dreaming and would wake up soon.

"Harry, all right there?"

"Hum…" he murmured absently. "Just waiting to wake up… Ouch! What was that for?" he asked rubbing his sore forearm.

"Waking up," answered Remus mischievously.

Harry glared at him but Remus was no longer looking at him, his eyes focused on his aunt Petunia instead, as if trying to decide how to begin the conversation. Harry sipped on his tea and stayed still, while internally dying to know what it was all about. Finally, before the silence became too unsettling, Remus began talking: "I just wanted to make sure it was still all right if Harry left on August the 25th. Arthur Weasley will pick him up."

"It is." she answered. "Is that all?"

Remus nodded.

"I will walk you back then. Harry, you should bring all your things back to your room. Lunch will be ready in half an hour." She added.

Harry grabbed his birthday presents and began to climb up the stairs. He was heading to his bedroom, when he saw that Remus and Petunia were still engaged in conversation in the doorway. Remus asked a question and she nodded. Then Remus left and Petunia closed the door, leaving Harry perplexed as to what had been said but sure that it had somehow concerned him.


	2. Hell breaks loose

**Disclaimer : Own nothing. Don't make money of it.**

**A BIG THANK YOU to my beta Sara. Any mistakes left are my own.**

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**Chapter two: Hell breaks loose**

Harry didn't see it coming.

He was sitting in one of the Hogwarts Express' compartment with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, both of who were deeply immersed in their respective readings: _Botannica Botannica_ for Neville and _The Quibbler_ for Luna. The poor girl was still holding her journal upside down.

He was thinking about how glad he was that Ron and Hermione had been made prefects and had to leave for the prefect carriage in order to receive special security instructions; even if Voldemort had given no sign of life, the population had been advised to stay on its guard. New guides regarding home and personal defence had been published and distributed by the Ministry two weeks prior. Molly had made sure during his stay that he learned most of the spells in them. Although, what was the point of learning spells if you couldn't even practice them?

Harry had at first enjoyed his week at the Burrow, at least at first. The first few days had been great, really: he played quidditch with Ron, pranked Ginny with the twins, talked about muggle artefacts with Arthur and began his school readings with Hermione. However, on the third day he found himself kind of… overwhelmed. Not that he didn't like the Weasleys but he wasn't used to living around so much people at the same time. He couldn't bare the uneasy feeling of intimacy it brought up to him.

The Weasleys were a close family. They didn't have much, that was for sure, but everything they had whether it was belongings or thoughts or feelings, they shared it. Harry couldn't help distancing himself. It was too much for him. The worst part was that he would have loved to belong to such a family when he was in first year but it was no longer possible. He couldn't confide in any of them the way they did to each other. He was not supposed to.

What was he to tell them anyway? That they could fight all they wanted, that it wouldn't matter in the end, the issue of the fight would stand between Voldemort and himself? The damn prophecy was weighting heavily on his shoulders. What was he to do? Kill the bastard and live a happy life ever after? Did he have it in him to kill someone, even as evil as Voldemort, when he wasn't able to cast a proper crucio on his godfather's murderer?

That was what Harry was thinking when it happened. The train had just gathered speed and he was watching the British landscape streaming from the window. He heard the compartment's door slide open and thought that Hermione and Ron were coming back early. Then he heard muffled cries and he scarcely had the time to turn his head toward the sound when his face was met brutally with a fist. He caught a glimpse of white blond hair before his spectacles were thrown away by the next punch and he fell on the floor.

He didn't even try to defend himself. He simply curled into a ball while he was kicked in his back and stomach. He felt strangely remote from what was happening to him. He wondered what could bring Malfoy so as to use physical violence against him. Malfoy was a wizard, a pureblood and a Slytherin at that. Direct attack was not like him. Harry smiled: right now, the ferret was acting like a true Gryffindor. He felt Malfoy tugging at his collar and could discerned his pointy face through his blurry vision. His head was so close to his that he could smell his breath and see the lines of anger on his face.

"I'm nothing compared to the Dark Lord. That's what you said, hum?" he asked in a low voice. "Told you I would kill you, Potty."

"You'll have to do better than that" rasped Harry. "What is it, ferret boy? Forgot you are a wizard? Or did you forget all about daddy's lessons? All you have to say is Ava…"

"You. Slimy. Worthless. Peace. Of. Shit" pronounced Malfoy, kicking his ribs with each words.

Harry laughed, albeit silently. There was a desperation in Malfoy's act that made Harry almost pity him. At that moment, he was certain that Malfoy felt as powerless as himself. Though he didn't know what provoked such a fit, he wanted to endure any punishment Malfoy would submit him to. It suddenly made so much sense. Pain for each of his sins: Cedric's death. Sirius' death. His inability to answer Dumbledore's expectations…

But shouts burst and his redemption was taken away from him.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Finite incatatem!"

Hermione and Ron had just freed Neville and Luna from their binding spells. Strong arms engulfed him and carried him away. Remus. His authoritative voice scattered the crowd of students gathered in the corridor, whispering among themselves, and confined them all to their compartment until they reached Hogwarts. He also sent Hermione and Ron away alleging that they had duties as prefects – one of them being the supervision of Malfoy's stupefied body until he came back.

"What happened there?" Remus asked once they had locked themselves in his compartment. "Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"Don't know," answered Harry, still dazed. "It seemed sort of… logical."

"Logical! What can be logical in letting someone beat you up? You are lucky Malfoy forgot to cast a silencing charm on the compartment or else you could be dead!"

"He didn't? I'm rather disappointed."

An indeed he was. Seemed like he couldn't even rely on Malfoy to help him end all this nonsense.

"It would have made things so much easier though…" muttered Harry for himself.

"Which things, Harry?" asked Remus urgently.

But Harry kept silent. Remus was really worried now. He growled in frustration and paced the compartment.

"Harry…" He shook the indifferent teen slightly. "Harry, talk to me."

At this, Harry's eyes snapped open. He suddenly realised what he had said and he began shaking uncontrollably. A single tear fell down his cheek and he opened his mouth once, twice…

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't."

He sobbed. And began coughing blood. Remus rushed at his side all the while searching his bag for the potion supplies Snape always gave him before he was sent on a mission.

"Here. Drink this. You probably have some ribs broken. This will help you until we reach Hogwarts. Shouldn't take long now. Rest."

Harry could feel his eyes fluttering shut. Remus had probably slipped a dose of sleeping draw in one of the potion he gave him. He really should be more cautious.

* * *

"Mobilicorpus."

Remus exited the Hogwarts Express careful of the body trailing behind him.

"Ms Granger! Mr Weasley!" he shouted.

The two Gryffindors hurried to him, casting worried glances towards Harry.

"Don't worry," Remus tried to reassure. "He will be all right. I gave him a sleeping draw; it keeps him from moving too much. I'm taking him to the infirmary. Would you be so kind as to transport Mr Malfoy's body to the headmaster's office? The password is 'bubblegum'".

"Yes, professor!" they answered in unison.

Remus reached the castle in record time so anxious was he about Harry's injuries.

"A black eye, a broken nose, two broken ribs and several contusions." diagnosed Poppy. "With the sleeping draw you gave him, he won't wake up before tomorrow morning. At least, by that time, he should almost have recovered." A look of sadness passed in her eyes. "Who did this to him?" she inquired.

"Draco Malfoy." answered Remus curtly, anger boiling through his veins at the memory.

He didn't have time to tell her more as the infirmary's doors opened violently and hurried steps were heard.

"Professor. Are you still here?"

It was Hermione Granger.

"The headmaster is waiting for you in his office, sir." she said when she caught sight of him. She was still flushed and out of breath from her run through the corridors.

"Thank you Hermione, I'll be going. I'll come back in the morning." he warned Poppy before taking his leave.

Hermione was already pleading with the nurse to see Harry.

…

"Bubblegum." uttered Remus to the gargoyle guarding the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, Remus, do come in my boy." Exclaimed the headmaster. "Lemon drop?" he proposed, his eyes twinkling madly under his spectacles.

Remus let out an exasperated sigh. Sometimes, Dumbledore's cheerfulness really got on his nerves.

"No, thank you." he answered – a bit more harshly than he would have like.

"Well sit down then, and explain to me why young Mr Malfoy has been brought to me in such a state."

Remus growled low and eyed the body slouched in the chair at his left warily. He was greatly satisfied to notice that Dumbledore hadn't thought necessary to end his spell. Malfoy was still petrified and couldn't move or say a thing. Remus noticed some blue marks on his face that were not there before – Ron's work no doubt.

"Which state are you talking about?" asked Remus cautiously.

"Why, but the immobilisation spell of course."

"Would you have rather like something… nastier?"

"Come on Remus, he is still a boy. Surely…"

"Mr Malfoy is no longer a kid, headmaster. We are not talking about some boyish fight. We are talking about attempted murder. My advice is to expel him from Hogwarts and hand him over the Aurors."

"This is out of the question." interrupted a deep voice behind him.

Severus Snape came out of the shadows, arms crossed and brows furrowed. He sneered at Lupin for good measure and faced the headmaster.

"You cannot expel him for something that didn't even happen on school grounds."

"Snape" snarled Remus menacingly. "Stop playing with the rules, would you? That godson of yours tried to kill Harry and he has to pay the price for his actions."

"Who said he tried to kill him? Perhaps your dear golden boy didn't fight back because he knew it would make him expelled. Anyway I don't see why Draco should be expelled when that dog friend of yours wasn't." he insinuated.

"You…" murmured Remus flying at Snape's throat.

"ENOUGH! Both of you!" shouted Dumbledore, his eyes no longer twinkling. "Sit down. And shut up."

If Severus and Remus were surprised by his language, neither showed it. They obeyed, albeit grudgingly and glared at one another from their respective seats.

"Ennervate" said the headmaster.

Malfoy came back to his senses and immediately schooled his features into a blank mask. He looked calm, his posture as arrogant as ever. _Malfoys_… thought Remus.

"Mr Malfoy," began the headmaster, his tone solemn. "I would like you to tell me your version of what happened on the Hogwarts Express. According to witnesses, you assaulted one of your schoolmate unprovoked. May I ask you what incited you to do so?"

Malfoy's eyes turned angry and defensive at the same time but he uttered no words.

"It is most unusual, even for you, to bodily attack a student and try to kill him… Attempted murder, Mr Malfoy, is worth ten years in Azkaban." he added. "It is a grave matter we are confronted to. I should expel you from Hogwarts this instant and call the Aurors."

Draco tensed visibly and a flash of fear passed in his eyes. He swallowed audibly, squeezed his lips into a thin line and held his head higher, still silent.

"However, we are facing troubled times. Who knows at which extremities handing you over to justice might push you. So for now, I'll simply settle on confining you to your head of house's personal quarters. Food will be delivered to you by house elves and Professor Snape will tend to your studies."

"Headmaster!" cut Remus choked. "You cannot let him go so easily! And to Snape's quarters at that! The man will let him do everything he wants!"

Dumbledore raised his left hand effectively silencing him.

"I'm not doing Mr Malfoy any favours." His look hardened. "For I'll not hesitate to reconsider my position shall Harry choose to lodge a complaint against him. I'll let Harry choose which punishment he may wish Draco to endure. An act such as attempted murder will not go unpunished in this school" he declared.

"Headmaster," Snape spoke. "You cannot let Draco's life in Potter's hands!"

"Severus… I trust Harry with this, the same way I trust you with young Malfoy. As Harry is still taken care of in the infirmary, I'll ask you to keep Draco locked away until he wakes up and makes his decision. You may all go now."

* * *

"Tea?" proposed Severus once he had showed his godson his room for the night.

"Yes, please."

Severus summoned a house elf and ordered some sandwiches as well, for it was almost ten and neither of them had eaten. They were both sitting in the mahogany armchairs by the fire when the food and drinks appeared. Severus was reading a potion periodical. He had not uttered a word since earlier and Draco didn't know what to make of it. He had expected him to lecture him about what he had done, though, come to think of it, Severus was not the kind to do so. He mocked, scathed, belittled… but lectured, no, definitely not. He was in for a good one this time.

"Would you like some tea, uncle Severus?"

There. If he was to die tonight at least he won't forget his manners. And perhaps reminding Severus of their ties might make him more pliable.

Well… One could always believe in miracles, couldn't he?

Severus pushed his periodical aside and eyed him for awhile. He wasn't smiling per see – Draco could not imagine something more terrifying than his godfather smiling – but he surely looked amused and that was not good. Draco felt like a mouse under a cat's eye. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, the tea pot slightly shaking in his hand. There were times like that when he should just remember to shut up.

Severus inclined his head, smirking. Draco silently filled his cup and handed it to him before putting the kettle down and sitting back on his chair, hands folded in his lap. He wasn't hungry anymore.

Seconds, minutes flowed by and still, he said nothing. It was becoming creepy. A battle of will had begun. Usually Draco would have stayed nonchalant about it – he was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake! His father had trained him better than that. Today though, he found the silence unbearable. He had been on edge all day and his fight with Potter had wore him out. He was in no state to play Severus' mind games.

"Spill it." he said.

His godfather arched an eyebrow mockingly.

"Sorry." said Draco.

"Were I not certain of you identity, I might have administered some veritaserum to you. It seems like you are turning into a Gryffindor."

"Don't be insulting." spat Draco annoyed.

"Language," reprimanded Severus. "A true Slytherin, Draco, would never have attacked a student bodily, let alone get caught in the act."

"I got carried away."

"Indeed." he said. "Care to explain what benefit killing the Potter brat would have brought to you?"

"He would be dead."

"I see. Unfortunately you failed and are now in a very delicate situation."

"You tell me. I can't believe the old fool is letting Potter decide of my 'punishment!'"

"I'm sure a trip to Azkaban can be arranged if you so wish." retorted his godfather ironically.

Draco screwed up his eyes in distaste.

"At least, I could find a way to escape and join the Dark Lord."

"I thought you didn't want to."

"That was before, uncle Severus. Mother received an owl from the Ministry this morning. Father has been sentenced to death. As there are no Dementors left, he will be poisoned in two days. Like a common muggle! My father is going to die and it is all Potter's fault! I won't find reprieve until he dies from my very hands. And if that means joining the Dark Lord and dying in the process, then so be it."

* * *

Harry awoke to the feeling of the sun on his face. He was lying on his back facing something white. Though his vision was blurred from the lack of glasses he knew without a doubt that he was facing the infirmary's ceiling. He had been in this bed so many times that he could recognise his surroundings immediately. He still felt a bit groggy but otherwise fine so he guessed he wouldn't stay long this time.

His hand fumbled around his head looking for his spectacles but someone took it and slipped them in it. He put them on, relieved to see the world clearly again.

"Making it a habit to spend the night watching over me?" he asked Remus.

The werewolf displayed a strained smile.

"How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?"

"Malfoy…" he began.

"Don't worry, Harry. He is being taken care of. Professor Dumbledore confined him in Snape's quarters. He cannot escape."

"Ah."

"Harry…" Remus took his hand in his. "Do you wish to prosecute him?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry astonished.

"Attempted murder is worth ten years in Azkaban. You can condemn him."

"I… What? But it was just a fight, Remus!"

"You almost died!" shouted Remus loosing his calm.

Harry winced.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he said. "But… I'll think about it, all right?"

"Right." whispered Remus his head in his hands. "Right."

Harry had never seen the DADA teacher so aghast before. The man looked tired – even more so than after a full moon. He noticed the tensed features, the dark circles underlining the eyes, the slumped shoulders with something akin to guiltiness. All of this was his fault. If only he didn't attract danger like a magnet. If only he knew what to do…

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I should be the one asking you this question, don't you think?"

"'m fine" mumbled Harry.

"So you keep saying. But it doesn't mean that you are… Harry, what happened there?" he asked for the second time.

"It's complicated."

"Does it have something to do with Sirius? With his death?"

"I deserved it, you know."

"Deserved what, Harry?"

"The beating. Made sense. I have been having this dream all summer: I'm at the Department of Mysteries and there are only Sirius and I. He laughs at me and… I kill him. I guess, I needed something like that to happen. Needed to be punished because, you know, it's only the beginning. Others will die and I won't be able to prevent it. Saviour of the Wizarding world, my ass."

He bent his head in shame. There was a long pause before Remus talked.

"Harry… I'm not going to tell you it was not your fault…"

Harry's eyes widened.

"But I'm not going to tell you it was your fault either. It was an unfortunate series of events that led to Sirius' death. What you did was only one of them. Hell, if I want to, I can blame his death on Peter. Had he been caught, Sirius wouldn't have had to live hidden. He wouldn't have been so restless and wouldn't have fall into such an obvious trap. I can blame it on Snape for being his usual self. I can blame it on me. I can blame it on Sirius too but… it won't bring him back."

"Do you hate me sometimes… because of it?"

"Hate is a strong word. I'm not even sure I actually hate Snape." Remus laughed. "But angered, yes sometimes. Although most of the time I wish I would have been there. I wish you had someone to talk to about those dreams. Perhaps then, we could have prevented it."

"Hum… Thanks I guess."

"Whatever for?" asked Remus surprised.

"You are not trying to sugar-coat things like Dumbledore and the others. I appreciate that. They keep saying it was not my fault, as if it can help me."

"Welcome to the adult world, Harry." said Remus bitterly.

* * *

Harry was having dinner when Ron and Hermione came to visit him.

"Harry! How do you feel?" asked Hermione.

Her brown eyes were bloodshot as if she had spent the entire night worrying about him.

"Madam Pomfrey barely let me see you. I thought you would never wake up. You were so pale…" she murmured.

'I'm fine, 'Mione. Really. Poppy said everything is back in order. She is just keeping me here tonight to make sure that there are no side effects because of all the potions I took."

"You missed the feast, mate." said Ron abruptly changing the subject. "The Sorting Hat made a new speech about unity in dark times and crap like that. I don't believe anyone listened to it."

"I did!" exclaimed Hermione with indignation.

"Well it's you, Hermione." said Ron. "Anyway, all people were talking about was the fight and the fact that you…"

"Ron!" shouted Hermione. "You insensitive little twit!"

Ron blushed and closed his mouth.

"The fact that I what?" asked Harry leaving his tray on the bedside table.

"Well…" stammered Ron.

"It doesn't matter, really Harry. And we are here for you if people began harassing you."

Ron shot her a look and her eyes widened.

"Oups" she said.

"So…" sighed Harry. "What is being said… this time?"

"That you didn't fight Malfoy back and that you are a…"

The end of Ron's phase was lost in a murmur. Both of his friends were fidgeting on their feet and looking anywhere else but at him.

"A what?"

"A sissy."

"Oh…"

"Well, well, well… Looks like our most famous student is awake."

Snape stood behind them, arms crossed over his chest in his most imposing posture. He gave them all a bored scowl.

"Weasley, Granger. Out."

How the man could bark without even raising his voice was beyond Harry. His friends left at once, probably not wanting to infuriate their potion teacher any more than he already was. Snape closed the curtains around his bed and cast a silencing charm around them before sitting swiftly in a chair.

"Make yourself at home" Harry ground out between clenched teeth.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter. You will do well to remember who you are talking to."

All the hate Harry felt for the greasy git came back in a rush. He breathed in deeply.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, professor?"

Professor Snape smirked at him.

"Watch your tone too. I'm here to know what you are planning for my godson… Draco." he clarified.

"Oh."

"Always the articulate one, Mr Potter."

"Does the headmaster know you are here? Because I'm not sure he would appreciate you trying to intimidate me." Harry said casually.

"Mr Potter," whispered Snape drawing his face near to his. "Do not underestimate me, would you? Because I could make your life a living hell should I choose to. I could assigned you detentions every night for the next two years. I could insult you, belittle you in class or drop your marks and make sure you failed your exams. I could slip something in one of your potions; contrary to popular belief I'm only human and accidents do happen. I could follow you everywhere and spread all your insignificant secrets. Basically, I can turn you into the pariah of this school."

Snape sat back down on his chair, an evil smile playing on his lips. Harry didn't want to show his fear but somehow he knew he wasn't good at hiding it.

"That, Mr Potter, would be intimidating you, as you so nicely put it. But I didn't threatened you. I simply asked you what you decided regarding Mr Malfoy."

He paused, waiting for an answer. He couldn't have planned what happened next though. The Potter brat laughed. At him.

"You know what Snape?… Professor" he corrected. "For a brief instant, I thought about sending Malfoy to Azkaban."

Snape paled.

"Not because he tried to kill me, but because you obviously think that's what I'm going to do. I guess my father wouldn't have thought about it twice. And you probably would kill Sirius on the spot were he still alive. I'm sorry to disappoint you though, professor. I'm not my father. And I'm not you either. I don't give a shit about that hate of yours. Your are fighting dead people. And I'll not condemn Malfoy to revive your hate. So rest assured, your godson will live. Now I would appreciate if you would just leave. Poppy won't be long in checking on me and I would like to rest."

Harry firmly closed his eyes. He didn't want to look at Snape to see what effects his speech had on him. Somehow, he didn't care anymore. Snape's grudge against the Potters and anything related to them seemed so childish to him now. Honestly, it was time someone turned the page for him.

* * *

How dared the brat talk to him as if he was some inconsequent child? thought Snape striding up and down his living room. Did he forget who he was? He was a teacher at this school, a figure to be respected. If the brat thought he could bully him the way his father did, he was sadly mistaken. Sure, he knew how to play the adult. Just like James. Always had to be above all others, that one. Making pompous speeches and playing the righteous Gryffindor whenever he had an audience. Especially in front of Evans. What good did it do to him in the end?

The brat will pay for that. He still had to pay him back for the intrusion of his pensieve. Though, the death of Black was enough to keep him content for years. It had been an unexpected but nice surprise. Who would have thought the dog would react in such a way to his baiting? Had it been anyone else, Snape could have felt remorse for all the spiteful things he said. But Black had been the worse of the lot, always laughing at things. Even after he tried to kill him. A funny joke indeed. That man had been a danger walking on legs. The world was better off without Black. HE was better off without him around. And it was not as if he actually killed the man. Black did it all on his own.

Now, he could only hope Black's death would make the Potter brat stop wandering about dangerous places. He was so tired of rescuing him. As if he didn't have enough on his plate dealing with the Dark Lord, Dumbledore's demands and the Order's suspicion towards him. He never understood why the old fool placed so much faith in Potter anyway. The child was barely able to save his ass let alone save the wizarding world. Sure he survived a few encounters with his master, but it was mere luck. The Dark Lord should have been stopped years ago. He said so before but wasn't listened to. Now, the Dark Lord's powers were almost the way they used to be. Soon, it would be too late.

He hoped Dumbledore had a joker in his hand, and a powerful one. He didn't want to come back to the Dark Lord but he certainly wasn't ready to die for a lost cause. He did all he could these past years to ensure that the Light side had a chance to win. If the Order decided to throw it to the bin there was nothing he could do. It wasn't as if they ever thanked him for his help anyway.

His sole priority was now to ensure his godson's survival. He won't let him make the same mistakes he did. The boy had made him proud the day he came to tell him he wouldn't join the Death Eater's ranks. It had been a fool thing to do: after all, he was still known to be one of the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. Did Draco doubt his allegiance? Snape thought at first it was a trap, a test both for Draco and him. But the boy's nervousness quieted his worries down. Draco, for all his education and slytheriness, wasn't yet able to lie to him. That was what saved his life. That, and the fact that Draco had come to him rather than to his father. Severus had felt warmed at the thought. He sometimes wished Draco was his son. Although him ever having children was ludicrous to say the least. And most improbable.

So the Potter brat should better not mess up with him! Sure, he said he wouldn't sent Draco in Azkaban but he was still his father's son and Black's godson. Who knew what his idea of a good joke was?

A pain in his right forearm made Snape stop his pacing. He frowned, worried. He had never been called to a meeting the first night of school before. The Dark Lord must have heard of Draco's fight. His suspicions were finally justified: they already were Death Eaters in training reporting to the Dark Lord. Wasn't his life already complicated enough? With a sigh, Snape flooed to the Headmaster's office.


	3. Mistrust

**Disclaimer : Own nothing. Don't make money of it.**

**AN: Beta read version. Thanks to Sara. Any mystakes left are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter three: Mistrust**

Each time Snape crawled at the Dark Lord's feet, he wished that he had never been young and foolish. Whatever possessed him to willingly enslave himself to the mad man years ago couldn't have been that important. Sure, there had been family expectations: the Snapes were known to be well versed in the Dark Arts and it would have been suspicious if Severus hadn't joined. There had also been Malfoy. Magnificent, rich and powerful Malfoy. The Dark Lord's most trusted servant even back then, when his role was to recruit new followers. And recruit he did, right under Dumbledore's nose. Seducing and coaxing students who were too weak to realise that they were being manipulated.

If these had been the only reasons for his joining perhaps Snape would have been able to forgive himself. As it was, his reasons had been much more petty. For one he joined the Dark Lord for revenge regarding a certain group of Gryffindors. And a second was a deep need to prove himself. Both related in a twisted way. Snape was sure his life would have been completely different had either his father or the Gryffindors not been a part of it. By the time he went to Hogwarts, his father had instilled in him perfect pureblood qualities: disdain for lower classes, a coldness regarding any kind of relationship and an immoderate pride in his name. What his father didn't know though, was that it was all a facade. Something to hide behind. His father's teachings only created in a sustained anger that strengthened his inability to ever trust anyone and kept him emotionally unbalanced. He had been so weak. He supposed that was why the Gryffindors kept setting upon him; somehow they must have felt that if they humiliated him enough he would be helpless. He was so angry back then. Angry at them for guessing him for what he was. Angry at himself for accepting their harsh treatment. He wanted to be strong and to be respected. He wanted to show his father that he could become someone important. So, he joined.

He wished he could have stayed naive, blissfully unaware of what he had got himself into. But that was not to be. If he was truthful with himself though he doubted he would have survived his eighteenth birthday had he not submitted. He saw what happened to Regulus Black. Now here he was, risking his life on a daily basis in the hope of bringing some useful information to Dumbledore and teaching useless brats at the same time. It was truly a miracle that he had managed to survive so far.

The meeting had gone rather bad. After the disaster of the Department of Mysteries, there were very few of the inner circle left. The Dark Lord had lost his favourite pet and wasn't in a good mood. Snape had barely apparated that he was writhing under the cruciatus curse.

"Severus, may I ask why you didn't think it necessary to tell me about Malfoy's and Potter's fight?" the Dark Lord had asked.

It had taken him a few seconds to catch his breath - enough to realise there were some new figures among the circle. Young ones.

"My Lord," he had said while bowing low. "I intended to do so from the moment it happened but I had obligations to attend to at school and my absence would have been highly suspicious. Besides, what Malfoy did was utterly foolish…"

That owed him another crucio but one that he expected this time.

"He wanted to please me," said the Dark Lord. "Or so I have been told. Are you telling me otherwise?"

"No, my Lord. Draco is loyal to you and shows great promises. Just like his father. However, he is still young and impulsive. In his haste to do well, he forgot elementary precautions. I had to play my cards right to make sure he wasn't expelled. He is very ashamed of his failure and wants to redeem himself. He will be your eyes in Hogwarts and be ready to act should you deem him worth of such a mission."

"Is that so?" the Dark Lord had asked, obviously happy by such a show of loyalty from his pet's son. "You did well, Severus. However…" he added as an afterthought. "I expect you to report to me immediately should anything happen again."

"Yes, my Lord."

It had been a near thing. Snape had known that it wouldn't be long before a war for information would begin at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord had wanted for quite some time to gain spies within the students. He had been prepared but he thought, like Dumbledore, that they still had some time. It seemed that the Dark Lord had taken advantage of the summer holidays to gain some new followers. He would have to be even more cautious from now on.

Dawn wasn't far when he appeared at Hogwarts' gates. The usually faint 'pop' of apparition sounded extremely loud in the silence. For a moment, Snape hold his breath and strained his ears. It wouldn't do to be seen right now, still clad in his Death Eater attire. He took off his mask gingerly and hided it under his robes. Damn Albus for making him walk all the way back to the castle. Damn himself for refusing the portkey the old man always proposed to him as a way of escape. He could have used one tonight. No. He couldn't have. It would be like handing himself over to the Dark Lord with the word 'traitor' written on his forehead. Not really the most sensible thing to do.

Never before had the Dark Lord sent him back so late. It could only mean one thing: he was being tested… again. Snape clenched his teeth. He knew the Dark Lord questioned his allegiance. On the other hand he knew that, for the time being, he was the only one the Dark Lord could rely upon. The others were… well, there really wasn't much to say about the others.

Snape didn't plan to make it a habit to sneak back into the castle like a teenager after a night out. He had to this evening however so as to prove to whomever had been asked to watch him (and was making a terrible job of it, by the way) that Dumbledore didn't know of his meeting; proving therefore that if he was spying on Dumbledore for the Dark Lord, he didn't do the opposite. The worst part was that he had to look out for his watcher as well as for himself without giving any indication that he knew he was being followed.

He really was too old for this.

He managed to avoid any confrontation with Mrs Norris and to reach his quarters before any student of his house woke up. A quick look at his clock proved him that he had to hurry. Breakfast time was to begin in ten minutes and he still had to look his usual self. On his way to the bathroom, Severus collected a few potions. He drank the first two in one gulp, relieved to feel some of the pain caused by the cruciatus curse lessen soon after. He then took some pepper-up so as to avoid falling asleep on the brats while they were manipulating dangerous ingredients. A faint glamour spell masked his deadly pale face and bloodshot eyes. Finally, he changed his robes. He would have killed for a warm shower and a few moments of peace but he didn't have any time left. Albus was probably waiting for him so as to call an Order meeting before classes began.

Severus was about to leave his quarters when a dishevelled Draco appeared in front of him, his eyes full of sleep, wearing day old, wrinkled robes.

"You're back," he said.

Severus nodded.

"I was heading to breakfast. You are to stay here. You can summon something to eat if you are hungry. I expect the Headmaster to call for you soon. You should get ready."

Apart for a few students, the Great Hall was empty when Snape made his entrance. He inclined his head briefly in Dumbledore's direction before taking his seat and helping himself to some food. He let his gaze wander in a bored way along the four tables. His own house table was empty, so was the Hufflepuff one. There was a sixth year Asian girl at the Ravenclaw table and of course, the Granger girl at the Gryffindor's. She was always among the first to have breakfast. She usually read until the Great Hall filled itself up around eight. Potter and Weasley, on the contrary, never showed up before half past eight and it was customary for them to be late for their first class. Too bad he wasn't teaching them first thing this year. It would have been his pleasure to dock points for tardiness.

His thoughts were interrupted when a hand squeezed his shoulder. Dumbledore was heading for his office. Snape followed close behind.

Dumbledore's office was overcrowded when he entered. Molly, Tonks and Lupin were chatting in a corner. McGonagall was sitting alongside the Headmaster, sipping on a cup of tea. Shackebolt and Moody were the only ones standing. Snape wondered how the Headmaster had managed to gather most of the Order at such a short notice. He didn't linger on the fact that both male Aurors eyed him warily, suspicion written all over their face, or that the three on the sofa didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence.

"Let's not waste more time than is necessary," began the Headmaster, quieting everyone down. "Severus, my boy… If you'll begin."

"I've been summoned to report about Potter's and Malfoy's fight. The Dark Lord wasn't pleased that I hadn't told him about it. My guess is that he has been informed by someone within Hogwarts, probably a student."

"Do you know who it could be?" asked Remus.

"Probably one of the junior Death Eaters," snarled Moody. "Who else?"

"I don't know." answered Snape without acknowledging the Auror's interruption. "It could be anybody. The Death Eater's children are, of course, not to be forgotten. They didn't take well their parents' imprisonment and are rather angry with Potter and the ministry. However, I don't think the Dark Lord would only choose spies among Death Eater's children and even among Slytherins only. That's where he expects us to look for. He is not that stupid."

"You mean that they are more than one?" asked Molly.

"There were, indeed, more than one young figure at the meeting tonight." said Snape in a dry tone.

He couldn't help mocking Molly for her show of Gryffindorness. Of course, there would be more than one spy. Who did she think the Dark Lord was? However, he understood the worry under her inane question. She was a mother and the thought that she would probably have to fight children the same age as her own was certainly horrifying to her. He himself felt somewhat shaken at the possibility. He feared for his Slytherins for he knew how easy it would be for the Dark Lord to bribe them into following him. He flattered himself for his good relationship with his students. In the end, it might be the only thing preventing them from making the same mistake he did. He felt more wary about how the teachers would react now that they knew that there were spies among the children. He hoped, for all their sakes, that they would not begin hunting Slytherins down or the Dark Lord might gather new followers faster that one could say 'potions'.

"This is very bad news," said Dumbledore voicing everybody's current thoughts. "I knew it would eventually come to this but I had hoped that, for once, Tom would play nice. Using children in war is very low… Even for him. Now, I must stress out the importance of not treating the children any differently, no matter what house they belong to. I know many of the teachers in this school harbour personal grudges against Slytherins but, as Severus pointed out, it's highly improbable that Tom chose spies only in his own house. Cunning and thirst for power don't necessarily mean evil. It's the choices that we make that define who we are, not our character. Let's not forget it and show our children how to make their own choices. In the meantime, I'll ask the teachers to keep their eyes open. Any strange behaviour is to be reported at once, is that clear?"

Remus, Minerva and Severus nodded in consent.

"I assume that will be all, then," said the Headmaster ending their meeting.

Molly, Moddy, Kingsley and Tonks headed for the fireplace and disappeared a moment afterwards in a flash of green.

"Minerva, would you mind going and fetching Harry for me? There is still the matter of his timetable to sort out before classes begin." He said with a smile. "Severus, a moment more, if you please. This concerns you as well."

Severus sat back heavily in his chair and sighed. The door closed behind Minerva and Lupin. Dumbledore was watching him seriously behind his spectacles.

"So…" he probed.

"The Dark Lord is planning to make his Death Eaters escape from Azkaban sometime tonight." announced Snape. "He wants his army back. He wants Malfoy back."

"I see."

Dumbledore leaned in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

"Did he tell you about his plan?"

"No. Someone is to contact me. But my guess is that the Dementors will play a part in it. The Dark Lord doesn't fully trust me. He needs me for now but it won't be long before I'm no longer a part of the inner circle. Young ones are extremely eager to please."

"Are you the only one privy to this information?"

Snape nodded.

"Apart from Nagini and Pettigrew, yes I'm. It's not as if there were many of the older ones left, after all."

Dumbledore crossed his finger under his chin.

"Hum," he said. "I could reinforce the security within Azkaban – provided the ministry listens to me – but that would mean blowing your cover up. I would rather let them try to escape: Azkaban is still a highly guarded place and some of them might get killed in the process. Those who will actually manage to escape will be on the run. Aurors will hunt them down day and night. Not to add that your position will be reinforced. The incident might even rush a few things within the ministry. Who knows?" asked Dumbledore his eyes twinkling again. "It might be the perfect opportunity to get rid of good old Fudge."

* * *

"Mister Potter?" asked the voice of the transfiguration professor behind his back. "A moment of your time if you please."

"Now?" exclaimed a very indignant Ronald Weasley. "But, professor, it's breakfast!"

Hermione rolled her eyes behind her book while Seamus – not so nice – laughed openly. McGonagall though, instead of tolerating Ron's antics with a faint smile as she usually did, send him back to said breakfast with a very stern glare. Neville's smile dropped and he eyed Harry worriedly. Harry, on the other hand, was still rather grumpy and noticed nothing. The only thing his clouded brain registered was that he had just got up, was pretty hungry and had to give up on his first real breakfast in two days in order to meet with Dumbledore. Couldn't it wait?

"'m coming," he grumbled.

Hermione stopped reading for a second and handed him an apple.

"Thanks 'Mione," he said before hurrying to catch up with his head of house.

Professor McGonagall left him in front of the gargoyle after she said the password. A moment afterwards Harry was knocking on the Headmaster's door.

"Enter," said Dumbledore from inside.

Harry found him sitting behind his desk sucking on what was probably a lemon drop. His twinkling eyes were for once not fixed on him but on Snape. The potions teacher was sitting rather stiffly in front of the old man a full cup of tea in his hands. The amber liquid wasn't steaming so Harry supposed it was cold.

As if sensing Harry's stare on him, Snape put his untouched cup on the desk and turned to him, one of his famous sneers on his lips. Snape's eyes were mocking him, as if daring Harry to suppose anything about him. Harry gulped: he perfectly remembered their last encounter and what he had said to his teacher. He could only wonder in which state of mind Snape was now. No doubt, potions will be hell this year.

"Harry," began the Headmaster. "Sorry to call you so early but there are a few things that need to be taken care of before you may go to classes. But before we begin, would you care for some breakfast?" he asked, wand at the ready.

"I'd rather call for Dobby sir, if you don't mind," said Harry. "He knows what I like," he explained.

_There is no way I'm going to eat something you conjured_, thought Harry before calling for the house elf.

"Harry Potter sir!" exclaimed the enthusiastic creature as soon as it saw him. "Dobby is so very happy to see you again, Harry Potter sir! What can Dobby do for Harry Potter?"

"I would like some breakfast Dobby. Sausages and eggs and some pumpkin juice as well, please," he ordered.

"Dobby is fetching Harry Potter his breakfast right away!" said the house elf before disappearing.

From his chair, Snape let out a small sigh. Blessed was the silence!

"So," began Dumbledore once Harry was served. "I guess you are rather impatient to know how you did for your O.W.L.s, Harry."

"Hum?" asked Harry his mouth full. "Not really, sir. Hermione told me I did OK on the whole. Didn't pass divination though."

Snape snorted.

"May I ask how Miss Granger gained access to that information?" questioned Snape.

Harry blushed.

"She got it from Ron."

"Who probably heard it from his mother," interrupted Dumbledore. "She must have asked Arthur to have a look for her."

"It's all right, Harry," he added in a kindly tone when he saw the teenager fidget. "Although only the students concerned are to know about their results, it's not unusual for parents to ask for the information beforehand. So, you already know you did extremely well in DADA and, surprisingly, in potions. That allows you to go the advanced class should you choose this subject for your N.E.W.T.s. Have you already decided which subjects you wish to continue studying?"

"I thought about DADA, History of magic, Charms, Transfiguration and… Hum… Potions," he finished in a breath.

Snape heard him all the same and a very unpleasant smile graced his lips. _Yeah, it will be hell_, thought Harry.

"That will be quite a heavy timetable especially with your extra lessons," remarked the Headmaster.

"Which extra lessons?" asked Harry and Snape at the same time.

"Well," began the Headmaster amused. "I planned on making Harry study 'remedial potions' again as well as a few other subjects that might help fighting Voldemort."

Snape hissed at the name.

"No."

Once again, Snape and Harry had talked at the same time. They eyed each other angrily for a second before turning to Dumbledore.

"Certainly, Albus, you cannot think I will willingly teach the brat again after what happened last year…"

"No way. He hates me! It's already going to be hell in Potions and you want me to spend even more time with him! And alone at that! He will torture me, use imperio on me or… or…"

"Now, now," said Dumbledore. "You don't really have a choice here. Severus, my boy, surely you don't want Harry to inadvertently reveal your position as a spy? And Harry, I'm sure you don't want something like last year to happen again…"

Teacher and student eyed Dumbledore in silence, both flabbergasted. Severus was able to hide his shock better but Harry could barely contain his thoughts. Anger, sorrow, betrayal were swirling around him in a dark aura.

_Sadistic bastard_, thought Snape

"That is settled then. You will have 'remedial potions' twice a week. The times will be chosen by professor Snape at his convenience. Now, I would like to know what you have decided regarding Mister Malfoy."

Harry was still seething in his seat, his fists clenched by his sides. Snape watched him. He knew he looked as collected as ever but cold sweat was running down his spine. The boy was angry and Snape feared Harry will unleash on his godson regardless of his previous promise.

"Wizard's oath," mumbled Harry.

"What?"

Dumbledore looked at the teenager in front of him. He was rather taken aback by such a demand and wondered what that had to do with young Malfoy. He had expected – and wanted – Harry to prosecute the child. Their hate for one another was well known and he could take advantage of it.

"What do you mean, Harry?" he asked cautiously.

"I want a wizard's oath. From Snape. I want him to promise he will actually try to teach me something during 'remedial potions' instead of spending his time attacking me. I don't care what he will do during potions though. I know it will appear strange if he suddenly acts fair."

_How… Slytherin of him_, thought Snape. Bargaining before stating his conditions. He didn't know yet if he should be affronted by such a total disrespect for his person and his position or if he should applaud the brat for his quick thinking. He knew Potter had managed to unbalance Dumbledore. Such a rare sight. Snape wanted to savour it.

"Harry, you can't ask for a wizard's oath for something so trivial," tried Dumbledore. "A wizard's oath binds people through magic. It…"

"Wizard's oath or nothing," stated Harry.

Snape had to admit the child had some nerve, playing mind games with Dumbledore. However, he was still too young to be able to resist the Headmaster's coaxing very long. Had he been a Slytherin, he might have known how to play things right. As it was, Snape didn't give him more than five minutes before relenting. Snape didn't want Potter to be more angry than he already was once he realised he had been beaten at his own game. Draco's life was at stake. Snape was ready to make some concession if it assured him of his godson's well being. After all, he will still have potions to make the child's life hell. Snape smirked at the thought.

"Mister Potter," said Snape. "If I promise to be fair in 'remedial potions', would that be enough for you?"

Harry gauged him in silence for a few minutes before nodding. _Good child_, praised Snape inwardly. He didn't ask for more reassurance; it seemed like he trusted him enough to keep his word. That disturbed Snape.

"I want to see Malfoy in private," Harry finally said.

"I'm afraid it will not be possible," answered Dumbledore. "Mister Malfoy has been forbidden to approach you. If you really want him to apologise to you, I can arrange for a short meeting under the supervision of one or two teachers."

"Who said I want him to apologise?" asked Harry.

"What would you want to meet him for, then?" asked Dumbledore in turn.

"That's none of you business. I want to see Malfoy and I want to see him alone," repeated Harry stubbornly.

"I can't grant your request, Harry," apologised Dumbledore.

Except that he didn't look one bit sorry. Snape wondered what exactly the Headmaster was getting at. Surely he wasn't trying to make Harry prosecute Draco… was he?

"So," said Harry, "You are telling me that I can choose Malfoy's punishment except that I can't? What is it to you how I choose to punish him? Unless you expect me to send him to Azkaban?" accused Harry. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Now, Harry," coaxed Dumbledore. "You can't possibly mean what you are saying. I don't wish Mr Malfoy to end up in Azkaban. He is young and young ones make mistakes. The truth is I'm very reluctant to let you two meet unsupervised."

"I'm sure detention can be arranged during in potion's class," intervened Snape.

Dumbledore turned to face him. The twinkle was gone from his eyes.

"I won't be far away," added Snape.

Dumbledore appeared deep in thought and sucked on his lemon drop for a moment.

"So be it, then. Severus, you will personally be held responsible should anything happen. Do I make myself clear?" he asked from over his spectacles.

"Perfectly, sir."

"Malfoy and I will be left alone?" insisted Harry.

Dumbledore nodded. He knew when a battle was lost.

"Here is your timetable, Harry. You should head to class now. You are already late."

"Severus," said the Headmaster sternly once the teenager had left. "I want you to keep an eye on them and tell me what they will talk about."

"Yes, Headmaster."

* * *

Harry managed to sneak into the History of magic's classroom unnoticed. Professor Binns was half turned towards his blackboard writing numbers on it with a spell. His dull voice was resonating in the room. Some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were slumped over their tables. A few of them raised their heads when they saw him enter and Harry gave them an apologetic smile. He tiptoed up to where Ron and Hermione were and sat between the two of them. People began murmuring among themselves and elbowing the ones dozing to point Harry with their fingers. Hermione glared at those who dared turn around and stare openly at her friend. By now, the sound level had increased enough to make Binns stop his monologue.

"Does someone have a question?" he asked, unaware of what was taking place behind his back.

"What was that about?" murmured Harry once quiet had settle back.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't worry about it," she whispered. "Now tell me, why did professor Dumbledore want to see you?"

Ron's head perked up at her question.

"Yeah, what was so bloody important that you had to miss breakfast?" he added.

"He wanted to give me my timetable and he needed to know which subjects I selected for the N.E.W.T.s. Guess what?" Harry asked in an even lower voice. "I still have to go to 'remedial potions'."

His friends gave him a pitying look. Hermione even squeezed his forearm.

"I'll be all right, Harry. Besides, it can only help you, can it not?" she said before going back to her notes.

Ron took a piece of parchment. Harry was psychologically preparing himself to take notes too when Ron slid the paper back in his direction. Hermione saw his little game and mouthed 'Honestly, Ron!' but Ron replied:

"What? You were already taking notes for Harry!"

So Ron undertook to relate everything that had happened while Harry was in the Hospital Wing, which wasn't much, but occupied themselves until the lesson was over.

"And professor Lupin is the DADA teacher again!" Ron exclaimed while they were heading for their next class. "See you later, 'Mione! Good luck with the greasy git!" he scoffed and headed for the North Tower. "Aren't you coming?" he asked Harry when he didn't see him following.

"I gave up divination, Ron," confessed Harry. "I chose potions instead."

"Are you mad!" shouted Ron. "How can you want to spend time with the old bat? I mean, you know he is going to be horrible to you but still… Divination is just so easy! You just have to make up stuff!"

"Perhaps I no longer want to 'make up stuff'," Harry said in a tight voice. "Especially regarding my own possible death. At least potions are useful. And I don't care if Snape is horrible, he can't be worse than usual."

"Divination is crap, Ron" said Hermione in a superior tone. "If you had some brains you too would have chosen advanced potions instead. I thought you would since you did well for your O.W.L.s. Anyway, we should hurry, Harry. We'd better not be late for the first class or professor Snape is going to kill us."

Harry glanced a final time at Ron before following Hermione. They hurried through the corridors half walking, half running and had just stepped into the potions classroom when the door shut with a bang. They took their seat rapidly, still breathing fast and arranged their cauldrons and other supplies on their respective workbench. Apart from them, there were six other students that had made it to the advanced class: Parkinson, Nott and Zabini for Slytherin, Susan Bones for Hufflepuff, Terry Boot and Cho Chang for Ravenclaw. Harry blushed hard when he recognised the Asian girl: they had parted on bad terms and had not talked to one another since their quarrel about Marietta Edgecombe the year before. Harry felt rather uneasy to know they will met every week now. He didn't know how to behave around her. Should he attempt at talking to her? After all, they were bound somehow by Cedric's death and had almost been girlfriend and boyfriend. Surely that meant something. Or perhaps it didn't thought Harry when he saw that Cho had chosen to ignore his presence altogether.

The door behind Harry's back opened violently making him jump on his seat. Snape strode up to his desk and made a sharp turn to face them. He eyed them all for a few seconds, one by one. His eyes lingered a bit longer on Harry and his lips curled.

"Well, well, well…" began Snape crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed posture. "It looks like one of the O.W.L. proof-reader was feeling particularly lenient this year. Let's just hope that those concerned by that generosity won't fall behind too soon."

The Slytherins snickered.

"There is a reason why I only accept the best ones in this room. This will be no standard class" warned Snape. "No clumsiness will be tolerated. That means no lost ingredients and no exploding cauldrons. I expect each of you to dedicate himself to the subtle art of potions making to the point of perfection. A different potion will be brewed each week. Some potions may take longer to prepare so get used to working on different projects at the same time. For each of these potions you will have to previously hand over a three foot essay defining the potion and its uses, the brewing process and the characteristics of each components used. Today though, you will brew a batch of draugh of peace… without using your books. It's fifth year material so you should remember what to do. Here are the ingredients and quantities you will need. You can find them in the store cupboard," said Snape flicking his wand. "You have an hour and a half. Start!"

Harry gulped. He remembered that potion perfectly. Each ingredient had to be added in the right order and the potion had to be stirred very specifically. The fire had also to be lowered at some point. It was a tricky potion to make and to make things even easier Snape had only given them the list of ingredients. Harry remembered a bit what to do and in which order but not precisely enough to succeed. He will fail… again. Harry went to take the powdered moonstone and the syrup of hellebore. He watched the other students on his way back to his workbench. Hermione and Cho were already working diligently. It figures that the girls wouldn't need the full recipe. Terry was glancing at Cho every once in a while to make sure he did alright. The Slytherins seemed at ease.

Harry pondered what to do next. Should he begin the potion knowing he wouldn't be able to achieve it? Or not doing it at all? After all, he still had to earn detention. Ether way, Snape was going to be a bitch.

Thinking about the git, here he was, inspecting each cauldrons with utmost care no doubt in the hope of finding something amiss. He passed the Slytherins fast: a light silver vapour was rising from their potions. Hermione's and Cho's were perfect too and Snape didn't dare making any comment. Susan's potion however was giving off dark grey fumes: she had forgotten to add the syrup of hellebore.

"Can someone tell me what went wrong with Miss Bones' mixture?" Snape asked.

Harry raised his hand without thinking. For once, he knew the answer and wanted to show it. Hermione's hand had shot up faster than ever and she was fidgeting on her seat. Snape ignored her and locked his eyes with Harry's.

"Yes, Mister Potter?" he asked.

"She forgot the syrup, sir," Harry said.

"Indeed. And you would know because…" his teacher trailed off.

"Hum… I did the same mistake last year," answered Harry.

He was feeling more and more ill at ease.

"I remember perfectly, Potter. Now, would you like to explain why you didn't begin your potion like everybody else? Or is it that you think yourself above such a task?"

"No sir," murmured Harry.

"I can't hear you, Potter."

"No sir," replied Harry louder. "It's just that I don't remember all the recipe, sir, and you said no lost ingredients so…"

"Had I though my remark to lead to such a blatant proof of laziness I would have thought twice about making it. That will be detention for you, Potter. Tonight. Seven sharp. Try that again Potter and you will find yourself expelled from this class," Snape warned before returning to his desk.

"Class is dismissed. Go!" he barked finally.


	4. Petunia's reversal and consequences

**Disclaimer : Don't own it. Don't make money out of it.**

**A/N : again the non beta version which will be replaced later.**

**

* * *

****Chapter four: Petunia's reversal and consequences**

If something can be said about Petunia it's that she never was a pretty girl. That's probably how it all began. Had she not looked the way she did, with her bony features and her horse-like face, she may have turned up a better woman.

As a child, she never was really talkative. She preferred to watch. Especially people. She soon realised though, that it seemed to unnerve them. It sure unnerved her parents. They became awkward towards her. They kept at a slight distance, asking her if she was all right but not really listening to her answers. Not that she always had one. She tried once to be a little more cheerful but regretted it at once: people seemed to think that she had gone crazy and besides, being cheerful while you didn't feel like it was quite tiresome. So she came back to her old self.

She remembered exactly the moment her life changed for good. She was two. She had been left at home with a nanny and was waiting impatiently for her father to return. He had left to go and fetch her mum at the hospital. She had had a baby. A little girl. Petunia loved her already with all her little heart She had seen her mama's belly getting bigger and bigger everyday. She had even felt the baby quicking once or twice when her mama allowed her near. She just couldn't wait to see the baby for real. She had not seen her yet; her daddy had said it would be better if she stayed at home and took patience for, you see, he didn't want her mama to get more tired than she already was.

Then, her parents came back. Petunia had heard the car coming and had run to the corridor. She was there in time to see her father, charged with bags, holding the door for her mother. Both were smiling and looking lovingly at what she supposed was her new sister. All she saw from where she was was a colourful bundle of blankets. She managed to catch a glimpse of a small mouth and rosy cheeks when her parents passed by her in the stairs. They headed for their bedroom, completely engrossed in their baby.

Petunia had felt left out. Had her parents ever looked at her that way? She had gone back to the living room and had watched television with the nanny until her dad came back downstairs some time later to pay her. She was made dinner, tucked into bed and… that was it. She didn't see the baby that evening nor for a few days after. Her father told her her mama still needed time to recover but she knew he was lying. He wasn't even looking at her. From that day on, she knew she wasn't wanted.

If asked now about her childhood, Petunia Dursley would simply shrug and say "I wasn't what my mother expected". She had come to realise, as years passed, that it all came down to that, really. Mrs Evans, for all she appeared to be a perfect wife and wonderful mother, used to live in a fantasy world. She had always been pretty and popular and had used those qualities to create her own fairy tale. She married a good man, lived in a cosy house with a beautiful garden. She loved flowers to the point of obsession and named her daughters after them. She shaped her life to make it what she dreamt it to be as a little girl. Everything that wasn't true to that dream was brushed aside.

Unfortunately for Petunia, she had been one of these things.

The day she realised there was nothing she could do to make her mother love her, hurt her more than anything. She was eighteen at that time. Up to that day, she had still naively hoped for some kind of miracle. She had tried to give her mother some of the perfection she so seemed to crave by always being top of her class. So, when she came back home that day knowing she was admitted in the greatest university of the country to study chemistry, she at least expected her mother to show approval. There was none. Only a curt nod before she began talking about Lily again. Sweet and oh, so pretty Lily, who happened to live among people only heard off in fairy tales.

Things worsened from then on. Petunia, who no longer had any hope left, saw her jalousy for Lily spiral out of control. She came to hate everything that was, in one way or an other, related to her sister. She forgot all the good times she had spent with her sister, from their games when they were still little, to the way they shared everything that happened in their lives. Petunia knew more about the magical world than people thought. Before she severed all ties with Lily, she used to read all her class book carefully and talk about them with her sister for hours. She had known, long before her mother and father, that the magical world wasn't the Eden they thought it to be. Lily had told her once about a dangerous man but she didn't seem to take him seriously. Her boyfriend sure didn't.

Petunia didn't go to her sister's wedding. She first learnt about Harry when Lily appeared one day at her door. She was starting to show. Had Petunia known it was to be the last time she saw her sister alive, she may have accepted her peace offering. As it was, she wasn't ready for that yet, having only begun to live her own life with her husband. Years later, while talking with Mrs Figg, she learnt that was the day Lily went into hiding.

After Lily's death, she agreed to take her baby in. She hated it at first sight though. He already looked so much like his father. Stupid man who thought he was so much better than Voldemort. So the years passed, Petunia ignoring Harry the way she had been ignored all her childhood and turning a blind eye to her husband's behaviour. That is, until the Dementors attacked her house.

Petunia told Harry, before he left for his sixth year at Hogwarts, that she never harboured any warm feeling toward him. However, for all she loathed his presence in her house, she didn't want him dead. Dislike was one thing but to wish someone harm was a totally different prospect altogether and that was a line Petunia was unable to cross. Therefore, all spiteful behaviour seemed uncalled for, and besides, she had become rather tired of it.

For the first time in her life, Petunia wanted to let the past go and take a hold on her existence again.

* * *

Draco Malfoy wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Until now, he had always been self-confident. Since he was born, his life has been filled with certainties. Certainty of his own right. Certainty of his worth. Certainty regarding his beliefs. His father was the living incarnation of everything he stood for. He looked up to him, worshiped him, even. His only wish had been to resemble him.

It was all Scarface's fault if his life had changed so much.

Draco Malfoy hated Potter with a vengeance. It had been so since they first met and the boy dared to refuse his friendship. Since then, they had been fighting for petty reasons and it could have stayed that way for yet an other year had Potter not given his father up to the Aurors. Now Lucius was jailed in Azkaban, locked in a dark cell like a dog, waiting for his execution. Draco had heard stories about the place. Who knew how long his father would be able to keep his sanity? Even without the Dementors around, there was still an atmosphere of death surrounding the place that no prisoner was totally immune to. Draco hated the thought of his father, diminished in any way, loosing some of his grace and presence with every hour.

Draco had thought he should make Potter pay as he had promised him he would. His heart craved revenge. He wanted Potty to bleed to death.

He couldn't do it.

He, the proud son of a Death Eater was unable to finish a defenceless boy off. There were many curses he could have used to make him writhe on the floor and spit his blood until he begged for mercy… He chose to use his hands instead. He knew, deep down, that Potter was doing him a good turn. He no longer had to worry about joining Voldemort or disappointing his father by not doing so. He was free, as much as possible anyway, and could stay so if he played his cards right. Why did his father's death had to be the price for such a liberty?

What disturbed Draco was Potter's reaction to the incident. Honestly… Talking! Had their positions been reversed, he would not have been so nice. Draco had paced his room all day long, trying to decipher what to expect from Golden Boy. Perhaps Potter wanted to blackmail him into being his slave for the school year. That way, he would impress upon the school who the boss really was and stop the gossips at once. Draco snorted. Nah, it just wasn't Potter's style, had to be the perfect hero, that one.

"Draco, get ready," said his godfather from behind the door.

Draco gulped, unable to speak because of the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. Time for the detention. He met with his godfather at the door and followed him to an empty lab adjoining to the potion's classroom. He sat on a dusty chair and tried to keep himself busy by watching the place. He could feel his godfather's eyes on him but did his best to keep a blank face and look nonchalant. It wouldn't do to show anybody he was scared.

"Aren't you supposed to wait in the classroom?" he asked Snape.

"Punctuality has never been Potter's _forte_ " answered Snaped with a smirk.

Draco, even if he didn't show it, appreciated his godfather's presence while he waited. It made him feel safe, a feeling he no longer tasted now that his father wasn't there and that his mother was too busy with trying to protect his inheritance from the Ministry's clutches. Suddenly, his godfather went to the door and Draco felt his throat constrict once more. It seemed that Potter had finally arrived. He heard his godfather scold him for his tardiness and a low mumbling that could only be Potter's feeble excuse in answer. The door to the lab opened and sure, here Potter was. His hair was even more messier that usual and his eyes half closed still, as if he had spent the last hour sleeping. It angered Draco to obviously be the only one worrying about that meeting.

"Fifteen minutes," barked Snape before leaving them alone.

Harry gave a start. He blushed, visibly annoyed.

"Does he really have to be such a bitch about it?" he mumbled for himself.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Draco innocently.

Potter didn't answer him. Instead he took a look at the lab they were in. It didn't take long. Apart from empty bottles and some cobwebs, there wasn't much to see. Soon Potter's eyes were on him again. Draco waited for him to talk but nothing came out. Potter simply kept looking at him. Fine. He too could play this game. Draco closed his hands in his lap. Five minutes passed that way. Each of them got lost in his own thoughts. Then, Potter began staring at him, obviously thinking hard. The idea of it almost made Draco smile. However, the sudden attention unnerved him and five minutes later, he was the first to break.

"Lost your tongue, Potty?"

The mockery didn't seem to affect his archenemy in any way. Draco felt like he was being manipulated. The fact that it was Potty doing this to him made him all the angrier. He couldn't stand the idea of being ridiculed by a Gryffindor.

"What is it that you want, Poter." He spat with all the venom he could muster. "Revenge? Please, be my guest. May I suggest a round of crucio to begin with the festivities? Oh!" Draco exclaimed, feigning commiseration. "I forgot you are too much of a coward to use it. A pathetic excuse of a wizard, you are. Unable to avenge his own godfather. Such a pity, really. Makes me wondering if you ever liked him a much as you claimed…"

Almost there, thought Draco. He could see Potter's fists clenched at his side and the murderous look the boy was giving him.

"Did you want to join him?" he murmured. "Did you thought about going through that veil?"

Draco paused to observe the teen.

"You have, haven't you?" he probed.

Draco's gaze hardened.

"Well, you should have!" he shouted. "I, for once, would be so better off if you were dead! You've only brought me pain since the day I met you! If I had not been interrupted earlier, I would finally have got rid of you!"

Draco stopped, panting heavily. Potter wasn't looking at him anymore. Damn, he wasn't even looking angry anymore. He had taken one of the dusty stool while Draco was still ranting and just sat there, a little slouched. What he was thinking about, Draco didn't know. The Slytherin didn't know what to make of the silence. He had expected a conflict but it seemed that Potter wasn't in the mood to fight. Draco couldn't even tell if he was still there.

"Is that really what you want? To see me dead?" murmured Potter.

Draco didn't answer.

"It's OK. You can do it. I won't fight back. Kill me," he added.

Draco ground his teeth, anger boiling anew in his veins. So, Potty had decided to mock him again? He would show him… His wand found its way to his hand instinctively. Draco sneered and pointed it at Potter. He could feel the air prickling with uncontrolled magic and realised, with horror, that it was his own. Never before had he lost control to the point of being unable to restrain his power. Children did sometimes but never him. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys never lose control. Potter didn't seem fazed one bit by the show. He kept his eyes locked with his and just waited. Draco hesitated. There was none of the challenge he expected to see in Potter's eyes. Only calm acceptance.

What if he was serious? Did he really want him to murder him?

The door suddenly banged open and Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Potter! Out of here. Now!" he shouted. He had his own wand pointed at Draco and was eying his every move carefully.

"Mr Malfoy. Do try to restrain yourself or I will be forced to body bind you," he warned.

And as Potter hadn't made a move towards the door:

"Potter, either you get out, or I throw you out. Your choice. But one will hurt much more than the other."

Potter obeyed silently. Draco lowered his wand as soon as he saw the door shutting. His godfather lowered his a bit as well but not enough to be hexed by surprise. He hold out his free hand to him.

"Give me your wand."

"…"

"Draco…"

Draco relented.

"Good," approved his godfather. "Now, go back to my rooms and take some dreamless sleep potion," he ordered next.

Draco did as he was told mechanically. He passed by Potter without a word, not really acknowledging his presence. As he closed the door behind him he heard his godfather say :

"You still have detention, mister Potter. The cauldrons, over there. Scrub them."

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of Neville's snoring. His back and arms felt sore. Damn Snape! The git had not only made him scrub every dirty cauldron he could find but he had also made him scrub the classroom's floor by hand. When Harry finally came back to the Gryffindor tower, it was well past curfew. The common room was empty and his roommates were all fast asleep in their beds.

It's been two days since Harry had been back at Hogwarts. He had managed, during that short period of time, to land once more in the hospital and to earn a detention with Snape. He had seen no one, apart from Ron and Hermione, who came to visit him at the hospital wing.

Harry heard the rustle of bedcovers and soon after, the sound of bed curtains being opened. He poked his head out: Seamus was turning his back to him, searching for a new set of clothes and his toilet bag in his cabinet.

"Morning, Seamus," whispered Harry so as not to wake the other boys.

The Irish boy peered above his shoulder at Harry and mumble a feeble hello in return before going back to his task. Harry knew Seamus was grumpy in the mornings but he usually at least smiled to him. Harry frowned. He watched his friend making his way to the staircase without an other word. Was he being given the cold shoulder again? thought Harry, puzzled as to what he had done this time.

Harry chose not to linger on that: he'll learn soon enough. Neville's snores stopped and he could hear some noise coming from Dean's bed. Time to begin an other day! Harry optimistically jumped out of his bed.

"Shit!" he swore as his feet came brutally touched the floor.

He had forgotten about his aching body.

"All right, Harry?" he heard.

Neville was sitting cross legged on his bed and watching him with a concerned look.

"Yeah…" answered Harry. "Just Snape being himself again," he added.

Neville nodded in sympathy. He pointed towards the window with his chin.

"I took care of your plant," he said. "I put it close to the light and watered it. It should be fine there."

"Thanks, Neville," replied Harry sincerely.

"Morning! Where is Seamus?" interrupted Dean.

"He went to the showers,' answered Harry. "Dean, is there something wrong?"

"About what?" asked the black boy.

"Well…" hesitated Harry. "It's just that he seemed a bit cold to me. So I was wondering if I had done anything."

"Nah," dismissed Dean with a wave of his hand. "Don't…" he yawned. "Don't think about it. You know how he is in the mornings. Everything is cool."

"Ok."

But Harry was still unsure about Dean's assertion. He went up to Ron's bed and shook his friend's shoulder.

"Ron! Time to get up, come on!"

"A few more minutes mum," mumbled Ron in his sleep.

Dean and Neville laughed.

"Ron! Get up!" said Harry exasperated.

"Hum… What!" exclaimed Ron, suddenly jerking awake.

"Next time you call me mum, Ron, be sure I'll act just like her," warned Harry.

Ron paled. Molly was known to regularly wake him up with a glass of cold water.

"You won't dare," he replied. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Time to get your lazy arse out of bed if you don't want to be late for DADA," answered Harry. "Come on, I'm hungry so let's move on."

The mention of food was enough. Ron was at the staircase while Harry was still grabbing his things.

"You could wait for me, you know!" he shouted before running after Ron.

It didn't take them long to shower and get dressed. Heading for breakfast, Ron and Harry went through the common room. Silence greeted their entrance. Some first and second years were whispering conspiratorially among themselves while the older students simply stare at them or ignored them completely. Harry was rather taken aback by such an atmosphere. He saw Ron set his jaw firm and stride across the room. Harry followed suit.

"Ron, what's going on?" he asked once they had passed the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Nothing," answered Ron curtly.

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor and waited, arms crossed on his chest. Realising Harry wasn't following him anymore, Ron stopped and turned toward his friend.

"You should stay close, Harry," he advised. "You never know…"

"Then, tell me!" shouted Harry.

Harry was getting fed up with all this. He saw Ron blush and glance around him. It occurred to Harry that they were attracting unnecessary attention. Some of the students had stop talking in favour to listening to their quarrel. Some of them even had that expectant look in their eyes as if their were waiting for some juicy details to come out in the open. Ron seemed to realise this too for he walked back to Harry and dragged him in a corner.

"Remember what Hermione and I told you in the hospital wing? About the rumours?"

"Wh… What?" stuttered Harry, trying to remember.

He sure had had other things in mind at that time.

"About me being a sissy? You are joking, right?"

But Ron was deadly serious.

"Shit!" swore Harry.

Ron smiled albeit a bit tightly.

"Sums it up well, mate."

"But… What does it matter to them?"

Ron was eyeing him in disbelief.

"Harry, you ARE the Boy-Who-Lived. You met You-Know-Who at least twice since you have begun Hogwarts and survived each times. You fought against Death Eaters; you even took some of them down. You have done what nobody in the wizarding world had never have the courage to do. You embodied every single Gryffindor's quality. Everybody looked up to you. But now…"

"Now what? People are realising I'm not perfect? That I can bleed and die?"

"Harry," tried to appease Ron. "Nobody expects you to be perfect."

Harry smirked.

"It's just… You let Malfoy beat you up, mate! What did you expect?"

"Nothing," murmured Harry. "It's been a long time since I last expected something from the wizarding community, Ron. I'm fed up with being analysed and I'm more than fed up with being the object of rumours every time the students are bored."

That being said, Harry headed for the Great Hall again. Ron grabbed his arm.

"Harry, you are not alone this time. I know I've not always been a good friend, but whatever it's worth to you, know that I try. Hermione and I will back you up. I don't know about the others but Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus are there too. You've got friends, Harry."

"I know, Ron," sighed Harry.

The teens smiled to one another, anger forgotten.

"Aren't you hungry?" asked Ron. "I'd kill for some bacon and eggs!"

Harry laughed and nodded. Hermione was already eating when they entered the Great Hall.

"You are late!" lectured Hermione.

"We are always late!" answered Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You are even later than usual" she scolded. "What kept you so long?"

"Nothing," replied Ron promptly. "Had problems waking up, that's all."

Neville and Dean laughed from their seats. Harry sat down and filled his plate hastily. He did his best to ignore the whispers and silences and act as if everything was ok.

"It may be the worst today," murmured Hermione to him. "Malfoy is back," she said pointing her fork in his direction. "Whatever he says, Harry, don't react."

The bell signalling the start of the first class ringed. The students who were not already on their way scurried off along the corridors.

"I'm glad Professor Lupin came back," panted Neville while running.

The sixth years' Gryffindors and Slytherins had DADA that morning. Remus was already seated behind his desk, therefore preventing any bickering to burst out between the members of the two houses. As soon as everybody had taken its seat, Remus got up to face the class.

"Good morning, class," he said as an introduction. "I'll be short and to the point. You know Voldemort is back."

Remus ignored the gasps erupting at the name and went on:

"It has now become an absolute necessity for you to learn how to protect yourself. I won't be telling you lies. I intend to teach you to the best of my abilities. Lessons will cover from sixth year to auror level material. Your parents may not agree with what I'm going to teach you but I'd rather see you all alive by the end of that conflict than spare their feelings. That being said," he added more gently "you have very little to fear while you are at Hogwarts. You are lucky to have some of the best teachers in their fields here… and I'm not even talking about Professor Dumbledore. However, one cannot be cautious enough. Now, if you would all push your tables away, today we are going to practice every spell you have learned since you came at Hogwarts. Pair up!"

Ron immediately went to Hermione so Harry paired up with Neville.

"Sorry," said the chubby boy. "Perhaps you would rather partner with Dean or Seamus."

"Neville, how many times will I have to tell you? You are as good as they are. Probably even better. I couldn't have a better partner than you for this class," said Harry before trying to surprise Neville by shouting "Impedimenta!"

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted an impassive Neville in answer.

Hexes were sent that way for a good half an hour. Most of the students stopped then, feeling tired. The only ones who kept going where the former members of the DA and, on the Slytherin side, Malfoy and Zabini.

Professor Lupin put a stop to the training.

"I see some of you have trained. Good. Really good. That will be that much less for me to teach you," he said in a satisfied tone.

Harry was glad that Remus didn't ask them how they had reach such a level. Certainly, Remus didn't think it was Umbridge's work? He may have been told about the DA by Dumbledore himself. Harry was glad about it. Now, Remus could take over where he had left.

The rest of the class was devoted to theory and soon the children were leaving for their next class.

"Harry please, stay behind," asked Remus when the bell rang.

"You did well with them," he said.

Harry blushed.

"Well… We had to be prepared somehow. Umbridge," Harry said with distaste. " wasn't here to teach. Hermione and others wanted to learn. So I taught them."

Harry shrugged.

"As I said, you did very well. They know a rather wide range of spells and are physically resistant. I'm proud of you," added Remus, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"I'm glad you are back," said Harry. "They won't have to hide now…."

" You are the best teacher we've ever had," murmured Harry.

"You only say that because the others were rubbish," joked Remus. "How are you?" he asked, once again serious.

"I'm fine."

"I've heard what the students are saying. If you want, I can…"

"Don't," interrupted Harry. "It would only make it worse. I'm used to it anyway. It'll die down on its own in a few days."

"Ok, if you are sure," said Remus.

The ex-marauder looked unconvinced but didn't argue.

"Off you go, then. I'm sure you have an other class."

The rest of the day went rather smoothly. Apart from a few interjections and a some name calling, which Harry feigned to haven't heard, nothing happened. Nobody dared come and fight with him. Nobody tried to hex him behind his back. Whether this was due to Hermione and Ron's constant presence or because word of his skills in DADA that morning had spread, he didn't know and frankly, he didn't care. As long as he was left more or less alone…

Surprisingly, the only ones acting normally were the Slytherins. Malfoy, especially, didn't act at all the way Hermione expected him to. He didn't try stop the rumours, probably because he had nothing to win from it, but he didn't gloat or try to mock Harry either. He simply ignored him, as if he wasn't worth his time. The sixth years' Slytherins followed his example. Harry found them rather subdued. However, when he tried to talk to Ron about it, his friend told him to keep his eyes open for they were surely planning something. Hermione, on the other hand, was more preoccupied by their Potion's essay. For her, the Slytherins' quietness was a blessing and meant she could work some more.

Before dinner, Hermione and Harry went to the library to work on said essay. They had to study the Amortentia potion. The three foot long essay, describing the potions and its use as well as the different ingredients and their properties and, finally, the brewing process, was to be handed in two days time. Snape would hand them back corrected before the week-end so that they may work on it some more if necessary. No use to say, that nobody expected to have a nice relaxing week-end. Harry also had the same work to do on the draugh of peace since he hadn't done it in the first place.

Harry was scanning the library shelves, looking for the book Hermione had advised to him on love potions. Having spotted it, he was reaching for it when someone near him did the same. They both grabbed the book at the same time.

"What the…" exclaimed two voices simultaneously.

"Malfoy!"

"Potter!"

Each teenager was eyeing the other warily, book still in hand. Malfoy released it first with a disgusted look on his face. He was browsing the shelf again when Harry's voice stopped him.

"You know…" Harry stuttered. "Hermione told me it was the best book on the subject. We could… Hum… Share it. If you want."

"Thanks… Potter," Malfoy added in an obvious effort to be polite. "I'd rather not. I'll come back later."

And he left.

"Slytherins and their f... pride," muttered Harry.

* * *

The students were happily chatting over breakfast when the first owls began arriving. Soon the Great Hall was crowded with the flying animals. Some were carrying parcels or letters. Most were delivering the Daily Prophet's new edition. Harry didn't pay attention to the commotion. Nobody would be writing to him now that Sirius wasn't there anymore and he didn't like newspapers due to his past experience with Rita Skeeter. So he kept eating.

He didn't know what made him snap out of his reflection. Was it the sudden silence? The way Hermione let her newspaper fall from her hands? The trembling of said hands?

Harry watched her intently.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked.

Ron picked up the newspaper and swore loudly.

Suddenly, the Great Hall was filled with shouting and screaming. Girls were crying. Neville looked petrified. Ron got up. He looked around him frantically.

"Ginny, where is Ginny?" he mumbled. "Have to floo mum and dad. Yeah. Floo."

Like most of the students, Ron made his way to the doors.

"Please, everybody, calm down!" said the amplified voice of Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was standing tall behind the teacher's table, radiating strength and confidence. He repeated in a soothing tone:

"Everybody, calm down. I would like everybody to quietly return to its seat."

"The Death Eaters…" murmured Hermione. "They escaped Azkaban last night and burned a village."

Harry paled. He took Hermione's newspaper and read the article:

_ONCE MORE DEATH EATHERS ESCAPE! FUNZIE ATTACKED!_

_Early this morning, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement announced the escape of six known Death Eaters from Azkaban. Several Aurors and warders were found dead, kissed by Dementors._

_This is the second major breakout in less than a year. Although Aurors have been warned instantly the Death Eaters managed to attack the muggle town of Funzie in the Shetland Islands. Many houses were burned down. Healers have been sent to help the wounded._

_The Ministry is already reinforcing security in wizarding towns and working closely with the muggle Prime Minister to track the escaped prisoners down but they seem to have disappeared._

_Both Ministries offer their sympathies to the families…_

Harry folded the paper in two. Malfoy, Lestrange, Rookwood and the others had escaped. It didn't come as a surprise to him. He did thought, however, that they were better watched then that. What had the ministry been thinking? Harry looked absently at the paper.

"_Aurors and warders found dead_", "_houses burned down_", "_wounded_"…

Harry sighed.

"Classes shall be postponed until this afternoon so as to give all of you time to join your families. I would like all Prefects, as well as all Head boys and girls to apply the security measures that have already been discussed," was saying Dumbledore.

Harry stopped listening. At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was as pale as death.


End file.
